


The Ill-made Knight

by LRRH17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arthurian Legend, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben is Lancelot, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Reylo Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRRH17/pseuds/LRRH17
Summary: She cannot forget the way that he had knelt at her feet at the end of it all, covered in blood, his dark hair stringy with sweat and his face streaked with dirt. He had pledged his fealty to her, awed by her own skill with a blade – and not just any blade, but the famed sword she had pulled from a stone several years ago, naming her the lost heir to the Palpatine throne.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45
Collections: REYLO WEEK 2020





	The Ill-made Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 2 of Reylo Week: mythology/legends/fairy tales. Lancelot from T.H. White's The Once and Future King and Ben Solo are essentially the same person. I couldn't resist.

“What does your name mean?” she asks one day, as they are walking the path that winds through the edge of the forest. Though the Lady Rey is well-learned herself, she has never had the opportunity to study French. Lord Ren’s name has always been inscrutable to her.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye for a moment before fixing his gaze on the land before them. The black leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches and unclenches his fists, his jaw working in that way of his that makes her think he is biting back the first words that come to his mind. “The Ill-made Knight,” he finally says.

She laughs. “Ill-made? My lord, you are the greatest knight I have ever met, and a prince besides. How can you be ill-made?”

“I know what I am,” he replies. He sounds strained, his voice betraying that infamous temper that he carefully controls in her presence. “I have seen my own appearance, my lady. You needn’t be kind.”

She frowns. “I am not being kind, Lord Ren. I am truly stunned by your own assessment of yourself. I think it foolish, and unfounded.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and she is reminded of the day they first met – how he had cut down the enemies that threatened her land, an unexpected ally when all seemed lost. How he had been ruthless in his violence, his sword glinting red in the sunset as his rage and battle lust consumed him. But she cannot forget the way that he had knelt at her feet at the end of it all, covered in blood, his dark hair stringy with sweat and his face streaked with dirt. He had pledged his fealty to her, awed by her own skill with a blade – and not just any blade, but the famed sword she had pulled from a stone several years ago, naming her the lost heir to the Palpatine throne.

Still, she feels a flicker of fear at his expression. Though she has seen his rage many times, it has never been directed at her.

_“I know what I am,”_ he repeats darkly. “And though my chosen name is fitting enough for my ugliness, it means more than a beastly appearance. ‘Le Chevalier Mal Fet’ – the ill-fated knight. The knight who has done wrong. The knight with a curse on him.” He whirls on her, eyes blazing. “Do you know that madness runs in my family, my lady? My grandfather nearly murdered his own wife, the queen of Naboo. He believed that she had betrayed him through an affair with his best knight and friend. It made him _mad._ And though he stayed his hand and saved her life, she died of a broken heart when she discovered that he had lost his wits.”

He takes a step towards her. It seems as if now that he has begun speaking, he cannot stem the flow of words that pours from him, as blood would pour from a wound. “My uncle nearly murdered me in my sleep when I was a boy. The great wizard Skywalker, terrified of his nephew’s power – of the voices that whisper in his mind, telling him to _fight_ , to murder, to destroy all that is good and light – nearly struck me down as I lay in bed.” He laughs wildly. “And perhaps he should have. Perhaps the world would be better off without Benjamin of Ren. I am nothing more than a monster, a creature in armor. You said so yourself once, my lady.”

Tears stream down her cheeks. She had known that some darkness from his past haunted him, but in the year of their acquaintance, he had never spoken a word of it out loud. She reaches for his arm, but he flinches away from her.

“The most horrific part of it all,” he continues, “is that I enjoy it. Though I hate myself for my cruelty afterwards, and I pray for _hours_ that I will not harm another soul, the darkness blinds me to my actions while I am in the midst of them. And so I destroy all that I hold dear. That is why I am the ill-made knight, my lady. That is why I must keep myself far from – ” He breaks off abruptly, chest heaving. “From you.”

This time, when she reaches for him, he does not move away. She places her hand on his scarred cheek and he leans into her touch, closing his eyes, all the bitterness and fury drained from him. “And yet I cannot stay away,” he whispers. “I am a moth, drawn to the flame of your light. No matter where I journey, I always return to your side.”

“And I am glad for it,” she whispers back, “for I cannot imagine a world where you do not stand at my side.”

His eyes fly open, wide with surprise and a hint of fear. “You do not mean that.”

“Why is it that you cannot see what is before you? I care for you, Lord Ren. I despise every quest that takes you away from me. I feel lost, and empty – cold – when you are gone, as if half of my own soul has gone with you.” She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to continue despite her trepidation. “I would have you as more than my loyal knight. If you would but put away a sliver of your self-loathing, and allow me to – to _love_ you, as you love me – ”

He surges forward, interrupting her with a kiss. It is her first kiss, just as it is his. When they pull away, he looks at her with wonder, his expression slightly pained despite the hope in his eyes. “Are you – are you certain?” he asks hoarsely. “I am prince of a dead kingdom, and so a prince no longer. Surely there would be more advantageous matches for you, matches that would secure your hold on the Palpatine line – ”

This time, it is her turn to cut him off with a kiss. She pours every bit of emotion – of _love_ – that she feels for him into the kiss before speaking once more. “If I were forced to choose between my crown and you, I would choose _you_ , Lord Ren.”

He takes a shaky breath, his eyes welling with tears. “Ben,” he whispers. “Call me Ben.”

“Ben,” she says, trying out the name. It feels natural on her tongue. “Ben, I love you.”

He smiles, so fully and with such joy that the corners of his eyes crinkle. He looks younger, as if an impossibly heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders at last. “Rey,” he says, almost in question. She nods, unable to hold back her own smile. He presses his forehead to hers, reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together. “And I love you, Rey.”

Her heart swells at the words. Though he may think himself ill-made, she knows the truth. He was made for her, just as she was made for him.


End file.
